Disclaimer: I do not own nor claim to own Sam, Dean, or John Winchester, or anything else associated with the TV series Supernatural.
Summery: John walks in on his sons in a compromising position and must come to terms with their relationship. One-shot.
Warnings: Non-descriptive Slash, Wincest
John paced in front of his sons, mind working furiously to come to terms with what he had just witnessed. He paused abruptly and turned to stare at his boys. Dean looked calm enough. His face expressionless, facing steadily forward. But his wide, dilated eyes gave away his fear as he gazed at the wall behind John's head. And Sam... oh, Sam. The poor boy was visibly terrified. He was shaking, head ducked low with his longish hair covering his eyes. John knew by the way Sam was gnawing on his lower lip that his youngest was close to tears.
He cycled through many different emotions, not able to settle on any one as he remembers the events that had led up to this... meeting? confrontation? Parley? He didn't even know what to call it.
He had been on his nightly rounds through the house that they were renting in a little town in western Michigan, checking to make sure all the doors and windows were locked, all the entrances salted. He had been making his way to his bedroom when he had happened past the room Sam and Dean shared and had heard strange noises coming from within. He had knocked, thinking that perhaps the two boys were simply talking or horsing around to work off some nervous energy from the hunt they had gotten back from earlier. But he had gotten no answer, save a strange, muffled groan.
Assuming the worst, he had barged in, belt-knife drawn, expecting to see a monster, standing above the boys, sucking the life force out of them, or perhaps an angry spirit, tossing things around. But nothing prepared him for the sight that met his stunned gaze as his eyes landed on Dean's bed.
There was Sam, laying there, naked. His head was thrown back, a look of ecstasy on his face. And there was Dean, kneeling down between Sam's spread thighs. It was all too obvious what they were doing. Sam had been the first to notice him, his eyes fluttering open lazily only to latch on to his father's gaze. Ecstasy turned to horror and Dean was alerted by Sam's choked exclamation.
Dean's face too had registered pure terror as he had looked up in confusion, only to catch sight of John standing in the door way. He had quickly masked his fear as he had hurriedly sat up and scrambled to cover himself and Sam with a blanket. Even then in that moment, John couldn't help but admire how Dean always sought to protect his brother, even now, from the perceived threat from their own father.
They had stared at each other for several minutes, neither of the boys wanting to be the one to make the first move, and John trying to process what was happening. Anger rose up within him, however, it did not last for long as he gazed at his terrified sons. Shame, then confusion, then embarrassment, all cycled through him at that moment, confusing him and making him nervous himself. Finally his frazzled emotions seemed to settle solidly on confusion.
Such was the current state of things.
John made his way stiff legged over to the desk that sat opposite Dean's bed and sat down heavily in the chair with a quiet sigh. He so did not want to do this. But he had to, if for no other reason than to preserve his sanity. He cleared his throat awkwardly and finally broke the uncomfortable silence.
"So, uh, how long has... this, been going on?"
It was Dean who answered. Sam was obviously in no state to speak.
"Just under a year, Sir."
It was the 'sir' that let John know just how nervous and scared Dean truly was. His son only addressed him as sir during hunts when John would give orders. Any other time and he was just regular 'dad'. It was only when Dean knew that John knew that Dean was guilty of something that his eldest would address him so formally. John coughed and shifted in his seat.
Why? Such a simple question. If only it came with simple answers, John reflected, as Dean fumbled with his words, getting a few false starts before nerves would cause him to trail off. Several moments of his stammering passed before a quiet, fearful voice interrupted.
"We love each other."
Ah. John mentally sighed. And there was Sam. He always had the ability to take a complicated situation and make it simple. Now if only it were as simple as his made it sound. John rubbed at his eyes tiredly and sighed heavily.
"That's all well and good, Sammy. But do you two have any idea what you're doing? How illegal it it?"
He realized his mistake the moment the words left his mouth. He knew they were extremely foolish, so he didn't bother reprimanding Dean when his son snorted in contempt. The Winchesters hustled pool, and did credit card scams for a living, stealing and lying and cheating, always walking just on the wrong side of the law, though under the radar. Winchesters did not care for conventional authority, or the law. The legality of his son's situation was a moot point, and painfully hypocritical of him for having brought it up.
There was a strained silence for several minutes. Finally Dean spoke.
"...Dad, what's so wrong about this? Is it our age difference, or the fact that we're brothers? I know that you don't have a problem with both of us being guys. I would never do anything to hurt Sammy, and I would never force him into anything like this. And isn't it better like this anyway? I love Sam, Sam loves me. We both already live together and travel together, we're both hunters. Isn't that better than if one of us were to fall for some random chick or dude in some random town, and then having one of us split away from the family and quit hunting because that random chick or dude could never accept the truth of things if they were told?
"Dad, it's your show. But whether you like it or not, Sam and I won't stop loving each other just because you say so."
There was a ringing, uncomfortable silence as Dean's words registered in Johns mind. Surprisingly enough, he was not upset, rather he was proud and oddly touched. John could tell that it had taken a lot out of Dean, who had never before dared to stand up to his father. He was trembling slightly and leaning just the barest pressure against Sam's side, trying to surreptitiously seek comfort from his brother's closeness.
John could tell in that instant, that despite how much he may not like it, he realized that if he tried separating the two, there was no doubt that he would lose them both. That option just wasn't worth the risk in John's eyes.
As the silence stretched on, Dean became visibly more upset and Sam's chin began trembling. John knew that if he didn't say something soon, then both of his children would break. Finally he shook his head and sighed and climbed to his feet. He made his way over to the door and stopped just in the frame, aware of two curious gazes boring into his back. He didn't turn around, instead he simply bowed his head and exited the room, though not before speaking.
"Get some sleep; that's an order. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow."
Back in their room, Sam and Dean sagged against each other in relief. They knew that if their father really had intended to try and seperate them, he would never have left them alone in the room together for the night. They also recognized the words, Winchester-esque as they were, as being their father's way of telling them that they had his support. Content in the knowledge that their father, while not exactly happy with their relationship, would accept it, the two brothers laid down and went to sleep, curled up in each others arms.
John grunted as Dean and Sam stampeded into the kitchen, drawn by the smell of fresh brewed coffee and pancakes. It wasn't often that John would cook meals, usually that was left up to one of the boys. But when he did cook, it was always a treat since he was a damn good cook, if he did say so himself. He watched in amusement as they sat down and began wolfing down the food set out on their plates. Dean glanced up and saw his dad's expression and made a conscious effort to slow down in shoveling food in his mouth. But it was too damn good!
It was Sam who finally broke the comfortable silence, asking the question that was on both the brothers minds.
"So, dad, not that we don't appreciate this, but what's the occasion?"
John looked down at his hands clasped on the table in front of him. He bit down on the inside of his lip. He sighed. This was far more important than a little wounded pride. He looked up and made sure that both of his sons were looking at him. He met both of their eyes and tried to convey his sincerity to them.
"Dudes, I know that I don't say this nearly as often as I should, but I love you. But there are a few ground rules I'm setting down. One, no lovey dovey crap in front of me; two, don't let this relationship get in the way of our job; and three, if you ever hurt each other, so help me I'm going to make both of you run behind the car for the rest of your lives. I may not like this, but I'm smart enough to know that there isn't much I can do about it. You can do what you want when I'm not home, all I ask is that I not see, hear, or smell anything about it."
He saw Dean grin at that last part and John shook his head in exasperation. No matter how old his eldest got in years, he would always act just the slightest bit like like a kid, which was something John hoped he never grew out of.
Suddenly remembering something, John switched gears.
"Right, enough with the chick flick moments. Hurry up and eat, we're heading back out."
Both of the boys looked up, Sam's eyes curious for details and Dean's anxious to get back on the road. John debated with himself on whether or not to give up the details, but he shrugged and decided that the headache he would get from Sam pestering him was not worth waiting to tell them.
"I got a call from Bobby yesterday, before we left to take care of that poltergeist. A friend of his down in California called him up and told him about a possible job. A bunch of kids and teenagers have been going missing, their bodies turning up in the surf, or their charred bones found in bonfire pits along the beach. The bodies that aren't burned are always torn up, like a wild animal would do, but they're always drained completely of blood. Bobby says that this friend of his has been living in the area for nearly fifty years, the man use to be a hunter, but he's too old to take care of who ever's doing this on his own."
Dean caught on right away. "So, you think it's vampires?"
"Yeah, I know so. At least four of them; pretty old too if the body count over the past hundred years is anything to go by. Now, go get your stuff. We leave in an hour."
Nearly thirty minutes later and the three Winchesters were packing themselves into the Impala, John driving, Dean sitting next to him in the front seat, and Sam stretched out laying down in the back seat. The sounds of Iron Butterfly blared from the speakers as they pulled out of the drive way and made their way out of town.
They made their way out of Michigan, passing the state line after only three hours of driving. The only thing to change within the car was the music, which now pounded out 'We're Not Gonna Take It' by Twisted Sister. It was then that a thought occurred to Sam, and he sat up from his light dozing and leaned over the back of the front seat so his dad could hear him over the music.
"Hey, Dad! Where are we going anyway? What's the name of the town?"
John looked back at his son and grinned.
"Santa Carla, California."
Here's a shout out to all my Lost Boys buddies who read this! Thank you to you guys who helped me out with one or two things on this story. I hope you all liked the ending! (grins and ducks thrown glitter tin)